| We’re lying in a minefield of dreams
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| We count those sheep as they scream
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| They never made it over the fence
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| With each noble attempt, we just sat there conscious
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| Been the longest, sleepless few years ever
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| Defeat feels beautiful together
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| The breeze feels suitable to weather
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| So for better or worse is working for the better
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| And we never, ever gave our letters away
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| Just gained some pleasure from the pain
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| We ate some veterans for fame
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| We aim with the heart, and we never miss the target
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| And we’re playing in the dark with the archers
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| The robbers, the honor, the?
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| Never turn the lights on? |
| fight long, nights wrong
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| Moves lose battles when the sun is down, look around
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| So look it down, go look down the barrel
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| Look what you found, the bang for the buckshot
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| The ricochets graze, the blood drops
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| So go ahead and look it down
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| Look down the barrel of the? |
| gun
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| Look what you found
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| You got no more face
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| So when the hot sun’s setting on a shotgun wedding
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| I will not tie the knot where the shots come heading
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| At my head, I will not be caught dead
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| Walking off to my bed with a death threat
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| We got no time to take orders
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| It just ain’t in the cards when your self-made
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| No time for an angel on a shoulder
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| We got to make room for the barrel of a 12 gauge?
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| I wasn’t unsure, I was just waiting for the rupture
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| It never came, so we’re playing with thunder
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| Now we hungry for slumber, we’re out and we’re hunting
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| Some thousand-something pounds that are coming
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| The? |
| and run 'em up, now we’ll shut 'em up
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| Proudly pucker up and throw them all kiss
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| For kicks, prevail and jot it down quick
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| And we’ll holler that shit, we’ll bottle that shit up
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| We’ll model? |
| up, go bottom up, flip out
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| So get out your gun, ma, let off a couple rounds
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| And all these outlaws know we don’t fuck around |